


Always in the Periphery

by MellytheHun



Series: Kylux Week 2016 [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Balloons, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Party, Comedy, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gift Giving, Humor, Kylux Week 2016, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Romantic Gestures, Tumblr Prompt, tumblr event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8779765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: Kylux Week 2016 Day 3 (December 7th): Pink Balloons





	

**Author's Note:**

> TW: there's alcohol use in this, but nothing extreme

Envying others was not a foreign emotion to Kylo, but being aboard the _Finalizer_ had taught him all too well it’s full magnitude. It’s a far-reaching, insidious bug.

The General and Captain are good friends, have established rapport and have spent several years simultaneously serving the Order. They talk like colleagues on the bridge, like friends in privacy and with a knowing and understanding of one another Kylo has never had with another person. And there Kylo hangs in the periphery – which, typically, he’s fine with… however, he’s taken a recent liking to the General.

After rescuing him on Starkiller, things were just _different_.

The air around them changed – their auras began complementing each other (not that Hux could see that) and they just managed more civility than before. Hux actually visited him in the med bay during his recovery, shouted at nurses and droids until every (even unnecessary) comfort of his was met and he knows that spoiling him was not an order from Snoke. 

And maybe it was the medications mucking up his brain or maybe it was the shock from all that had happened on Starkiller, but Kylo had quickly become accustomed to seeing Hux’s red hair, handsome face and tall figure walking about, standing near him, asking how he is – he had grown so accustomed to it that once it was gone, he felt limbless.

Once he was fully healed, the General certainly regarded him more kindly than before, but he didn’t dote on or seek out Kylo the way he had when Kylo was very gravely injured. 

Gravely injuring himself for the sake of Hux’s attention, though, would likely land him in hot water and he wasn’t keen on the idea. He thought then that, perhaps, he could make a gesture – something ‘normal’ people do to express gratitude and high regard. 

He wanted to get Hux a gift.

He had no idea how to begin and he was too nervous Phasma would tell Hux about his inquiries if he went directly to her about the matter, so he kept it to himself and just made a point of listening to some of Phasma’s conversations during the day. He hoped he might catch something about Hux – something in passing no one else might know, but as it turns out, Phasma rarely speaks about him if he’s not standing directly in front of her.

Following her when his schedule allowed for it did offer some results, eventually.

His suspicions were first raised when Kylo overheard Phasma’s order for fifteen bottles of fantastically expensive whiskey – not all too strange in the grand scheme of things, but the marker of something upcoming that Kylo was not privy to. A party or celebration, clearly and certainly only meant for superior officers – troopers, pilots, engineers and those lower on the totem pole weren’t permitted alcohol.

Then the next cycle, passing a corridor, he heard her conspiring with two pilots about going planet-side to retrieve an undisclosed item that they were meant to pick up from a discrete, anonymous _gifter_. 

A picture was slowly coming together, but he didn’t make any quick assumptions.

The cycle after her meeting with the pilots, while she stood at the control bridge, he saw from over her shoulder, on her holopad, an invoice for **_three hundred_** _pink balloons_.

“Three hundred?” Kylo asks, exposing his spying.

Phasma turns over her shoulder to face him, her mask set aside for the time being. 

She stares back at his own mask expectantly until he removes it for her.

“You don’t think that’s a bit much?”

She rolls her eyes at him.

“It’s _meant_ to be too much. Bit of a joke.”

“What for?”

She leans toward him, her eyes shifting back and forth to make certain the General wasn’t within earshot before telling him, “in about two standard months, General Hux’s thirty-fourth birthday will be upon us and he hates surprises, hates celebrations and is in for both.”

Kylo instantly has tens of questions, but the first one he manages to ask is, “but why pink?”

“It’s his favorite color.”

Strange and unexpected, but acceptable.

“And why are you doing this so many months in advance?” 

“You know how he gets,” Phasma defends, “He checks all the receipts and invoices when it applies to him – around his birthday, he’s constantly checking travel-pod loggings and billings to make sure nothing can surprise him or even be fully arranged before he pummels all still-forming plans into crumbs. I’ve got to book it all in advance so he doesn’t go snooping.”

Scratching at the turn of his jaw thoughtfully, Kylo lowers his voice to match her volume and responds conspiratorially, “alright… fair. What does he… like? Besides pink?”

“Whiskey.”

_Got that._

“I mean – as a… gift.”

Phasma seems vaguely surprised at first, but she smirks, as if she’s glad to be in on this plan with him. Maybe she’s just pleased to have someone share some of the burden of putting this arbitrary celebration together.

“Well, to be honest with you, I don’t know.”

Kylo’s brow furrows in confusion and worry – if Phasma doesn’t know, no one will.

“Hux is good at keeping himself a mystery. All I really know is that he likes things personalized. He won’t accept gifts store-bought or mass-produced. All his uniforms are personally tailored to him, every bit of furniture in his quarters were crafted from his own blueprints – the man keeps a fingerprint recognition program on his blaster, for Heavens’ sake! Everything he does, has and wants is personalized to him. So, if you want to get him something – there better be only one of it in the galaxy.”

Considering her advice very seriously, Kylo mentions, “…so, he really does make his blaster’s trigger recognizable only to him…”

“Yes,” she says with a humor to her tone, as though Hux and his high-security details are comedic, “At least he’s a man who knows what he wants.”

The perfect idea plays out over his mind’s eye and his heart jumps, eager to make it a reality.

“Two standard months? That’s how much time we have?”

“Yes,” she answers worriedly, thinking Kylo’s enthusiasm is something to be feared.

“Good. That’s enough time. I need a pod and I need it within the next twelve hours. No logging history done on it – I need to get to the Adega system. To Ilum. If I’m gone long enough for him to suspect something, tell him I made mention of a planet-side mission from Snoke. It will frustrate him, but it will keep him off our trail.”

“Alright…” Phasma agrees, though she’s hesitant to.

Kylo leaves right then for the hangars and all in all, the trip to the Adega system, to Ilum and to the caves in the Unknown Regions and his return flight, he was only off-ship for about fourteen hours. When he does return, Phasma tells him that Hux did notice his absence, but shrugged it off, thinking he must have been in his quarters meditating. 

After thanking her for her help, Kylo does retire to his quarters and then, for six standard weeks, he leaves his rooms for little more than food and conferences he’s absolutely required to attend. 

Hux asks after him – seems worried, really. Kylo is flattered by the attention, but has no wish to spoil what he has in mind for Hux, so he remains stoic and unreadable, telling him simply that he’s practicing ways of the Force, meditating – doing things Hux won’t ask too much about. And it works.

Three standard days before the ‘party,’ is scheduled, Kylo is approached by Phasma on his way to get food. She asks him what he’s been up to – what he’s planning and he smirks at her, tells her that she’ll see soon enough and leaves it at that.

It’s a pleasure for Kylo, the day of the celebration, to know that he is the only one who knows the gravity of his gesture – he intends to shock everyone in attendance.

Which, surprisingly, is a lot of people.

There are even some other people Kylo has never met – they came to the _Finalizer_ from different ships and squadrons specifically because Phasma asked them to. They’re ‘old buddies,’ as Phasma puts it – people Hux has known since his Academy days and there are a handful of superior officers, three people from the control bridge and engineering that Hux actually likes conversing with when he gets the chance and two other Generals of the Order. They’re both much older and really look like they’re only attending for the copious amount of whiskey.

There are a few more familiar faces, but Kylo is really only interested in seeing one familiar face.

When Hux enters his quarters at the end of the work cycle, all three hundred pink balloons come flooding down from a net let loose on the ceiling – along with pink confetti that has blinding, sparkly glitter on it.

When the cheering is calming, the balloons and confetti are landing softly on the ground, Hux is standing with sulking shoulders, a very, _very_ dry expression on and a glare directed specifically at Phasma. She grins back at him and Kylo can’t blame her – Hux has got confetti in his hair and glitter on his uniform and he looks a lot more like an affronted show cat than a decorated General of the Order.

There are gifts on a specified table, there’s an active, open bar and Kylo can sense Hux debating whether or not to simply turn around and leave – until he spots the other Generals. He sighs in pink, glittery defeat and steps into the room, having his back clapped, a drink handed to him and people already circling him.

And, as usual, Kylo remains in the periphery. 

Hux meets his eyes a few times, looks close to approaching, but as soon as he opens his mouth to say something, someone drags him into another congratulatory conversation about how much he’s accomplished at such a young age and yada, yada, yada. 

Hux looks like he couldn’t care less – he’s never needed anyone’s approval. It’s something Kylo very much admires about him.

When the gift-giving begins, Hux feigns surprise and gratitude, all while thinking of what he’s going to sell, return or throw away. Kylo hides his simpering as much as he can, but he admits he’s not all too good at it. Letting anyone know he’s reading Hux’s thoughts is also out of the question, but he thinks Phasma knows.

Phasma presents Hux with a book – tattered, old, passed along, yellowed pages and in some language Kylo can’t read. It’s a rare copy of some text – poetry – that Hux had mentioned once, several years past. He can read this script, apparently and he’s overjoyed at seeing it.

_That_ gift, Hux thinks to himself very loudly, _that_ he will keep. 

With the help of his whiskey, Hux is even able to hug her and she laughs into it – based on her energies, she’s just as hungry for Hux’s validation and displays of fondness as Kylo is. It’s becoming more and more clear to Kylo that getting special attention from Hux is coveted, rare and hard-earned. 

Hux might be angry at the surprise party, but he’s glad to have her, grateful for the book and he’s under the impression it’s the last gift left to open – and that’s when Kylo decides to step out of the periphery. 

Most fall quiet as he approaches Hux and while Hux’s cheeks are rosy and his uniform jacket has been lost somewhere, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows – he doesn’t look disheveled. He still looks neat, handsome and sober enough to handle what Kylo is about to offer him.

Kylo offers Hux a black box – rectangular, thin and light. 

Hux looks down at it in his hands suspiciously, like there might be an explosive hidden within – Kylo dismisses that with an unimpressed brow and insists he open it.

When Hux does, what stares back at him is the shine of a white gold hilt.

Hux places the box down on a nearby cocktail table and examines it closely. The hilt is maybe five inches in length, two and a half inches in diameter and while the white gold shines brilliantly, there is a matte black grip on it with spaces for fingers to wrap against. A black button with the First Order insignia on it sits near the top. 

Hux looks at Kylo with a quirked brow and all Kylo says in return to that expression is, “go on. Click it.”

Stepping back a foot or two, afraid of what might happen, Hux presses his thumb into the button and a buzzing light bursts into life.

A glowing fuscia light is cast around the room and everyone stands in complete awe.

Hux stares up at Kylo with wide eyes – the enormity and significance of what he’s holding dawning over his features.

“This –“

“Is a lightsaber.”

“You –“

“Built it, yes. You don’t have to be a Force-user to have one, but they’re difficult to build and there are few in the galaxy that still know how to make one. And I’ve been thinking that you deserve a weapon more… refined.”

Kylo can’t tell if it’s the rosy tint of the saber’s glow that’s making Hux’s face look reddish or not, but he’s rather pleased with himself, regardless.

“And not to worry,” Kylo begins with a smirk, “the saber is programmed only to ignite to your handprint.”

Hux disengages the saber, stares down at it in wonder, then shifts his gaze back up to Kylo, seemingly at a loss for words.

This is when the silence turns from definite awe to something more uncomfortable – Kylo is beginning to question whether this gesture was too grand.

“You made me a lightsaber?”

“Y-Yes,” Kylo answers nervously, “I… you know, pink Ilum crystals are very hard to find –“

Before Kylo is fully aware of what’s happening, he has his arms full of a slightly drunk General, his neck is warm between Hux’s biceps and his mouth is being pressed with a very enthusiastic kiss.

Kylo is sure he would hear murmurs, whispers, gasps and coughing fits spurred by shock if he could hear anything over the rush of blood in his head. 

His hands automatically find Hux’s waist, keeping them both steady and when Hux pulls away, his face is _definitely_ flushed, his eyes are positively shimmering and Kylo has never – not once in his natural life – ever given another person such a feeling of elation.

He’s never produced joy like this in someone else and it sets butterflies loose in his stomach to know he created it in someone like Hux.

“You made me a lightsaber,” Hux repeats emphatically, a ridiculous and terribly attractive smile spreading over his face.

It’s contagious – Kylo never predicted Hux’s smile would be so contagious – and he finds himself grinning back, ears and cheeks feeling hot. He feels a bit high, having Hux in his arms like he does, having Hux’s attention so singularly on him.

“I – yes. I did,” Kylo stammers back in response, “Glad to have you for thirty-four years and would like to have you around for many more, General.”

Applause of agreement follows that and Hux just continues to smile at him beautifully.

Hux only breaks away when Phasma insists on making a toast in his honor – the party resumes afterward and conversation fills the room once again.

To Kylo’s bewilderment – people just _assume_ he and Hux have some established romantic relationship and largely, they were only shocked to see Hux in such a public display of affection. Hux doesn’t bother correcting anyone’s assumptions, so neither does Kylo.

For the rest of the evening cycle, Hux keeps Kylo next to him, actively engaging guests with Kylo, forcibly keeping him from the periphery. 

Making him center-screen.

It’s a little overwhelming.

That, and Hux does not let go of his lightsaber for even a second. 

After several hours of socialization and after Hux has had just enough whiskey to make him foolishly brave, he announces the end of the party, because he wants sleep and then he ignites his lightsaber and threatens to ‘kill you all with _my **lightsaber**_!’ if they lingered about.

Everyone leaves grinning, though – thinking to themselves that it’s an ego-boost the General definitely did not need and Kylo couldn’t disagree more. 

Phasma congratulates him on her way out and says she wants one too – she wants hers to be red or purple, though and she’s not willing to make out with him for one. 

He assures her that he would not care for that either and they laugh about it before she exits. 

Kylo telekinetically moves furniture back to its rightful place, cleans the space with ease, but lets the balloons and confetti lie. It’s still a bit too funny to get rid of. 

Hux showers during that time, trying valiantly to scrub off glitter that he won’t be able to get out of his hair for at least a week.

When he comes out of the refresher, dressed down, hair shaggy and a little more sobered, he stares at Kylo, the hilt of his saber still in his hand.

“How long did this take you?”

“A little over a standard month.”

“It’s pink…”

“Phasma told me it was your favorite color.”

“It is.”

Kylo watches happily as Hux gazes down at it and after a few beats of silence, Kylo clears his throat and mentions, “well, I… suppose I should leave you to sleep now?”

“Sleep?” Hux asks, confused, then he rolls his eyes and grins, “Oh, Ren – I just said that to get rid of everyone.”

“Oh,” Kylo says uselessly, unsure of what his departing words should be otherwise.

He turns toward the door and Hux calls out, “Ren, everyone but _you_.”

When Kylo turns around, there’s a single beat and then Hux is fast approaching and this time, Kylo’s arms are ready to catch him.


End file.
